Changed for Good
by I 4 2 write
Summary: Spoilers for HLV. Sherlock is about to leave for his six month mission in eastern Europe. Both he and John believe they'll never see each other again. The scene of their last conversation together, and what's going through their minds at the time.


'I can't think of a single thing to say." What can you say to someone who you watched die and come back from the dead, only to lose them again? Someone who had annoyed you, insulted you, and even experimented on you. Someone who also made life worth living again, and who'd put his own life threatening injuries aside to reunite you with your wife. Who'd pulled you from a fire and killed to save you and your family. Who, in spite of calling himself a sociopath, saved you in every way. Once again, John Watson was saying goodbye to his best friend. Without him, John couldn't imagine how his life would have been these past years.

_I've heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason, bringing something we must learn. And we are led to those who help us most to grow if we let them, and we help them in return._

"No, neither can I." For once, William Sherlock Scott Holmes was speechless. How do you say goodbye to someone you put through Hell, yet remained loyally at your side? Who believed in you when the rest of the world thought you were a fake. Who killed to save you and risked his life for you again and again. Who made you a person worth existing. Without him, Sherlock knew he would have stayed a heartless machine. 

_Well, I don't know if I believe that's true. But I know I'm who I am today__  
b__ecause I knew you..._

Looking back on his life since meeting John, Sherlock almost couldn't believe he'd ever been the person he was before. The change had been gradual, yet seemed so sudden and startling now. Oh he was still rude and arrogant. He was still willing to toy with people's feelings if it would solve a case. He still loved showing off how clever he was. Yet now, there were people he honestly cared about. Mycroft would have said again that caring was not an advantage. Perhaps he was right. If he didn't care about John, he wouldn't be sacrificing everything for him now.

Sherlock told himself it was too late to wonder if caring was harmful or not. He could never go back to who he'd been anyway. Whether he had been given this mission or prison, or Mycroft had made the charges against him go away, his life had been changed forever. Even if it were possible for time to be rewritten, he wouldn't rewrite his time with John. Not one line of it. There was no going back.

_Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes the sun. Like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood. Who can say if I've been changed for the better?__  
__But because I knew you I have been changed for good._

"The game is over." John said it with such finality, like the entire world was ending. Sherlock had to correct that quickly.

"The game is never over John." The life they'd shared was over, but John had a new life now. He had a wife, and a daughter on the way. His world was larger than just their friendship. At one time Sherlock would have been amused at another breakup between John and whoever he was dating. Now, he was glad he wouldn't be left alone. "But there may be some new players now. That's OK." He'd count himself lucky just to have had friends. He'd known it couldn't last, really. "The east wind takes us all in the end."

"What's that?"

"It's a story my brother told me when we were kids. The east wind, this terrifying force that lays waste to all in it's path. Seeks out the unworthy and plucks them from the earth. That was generally me."

"Nice." John wasn't surprised Mycroft had been so aweful to his little brother.

"He was a rubbish big brother."

The two looked as if they were about to have a laugh together the way they so often had. Neither of them could forget what was happening though.

"So what about you then? Where are you actually going now?"

"Oh, some undercover work in eastern Europe."

"For how long?"

'Six months, my brother estimates. He's never wrong."

"And then what?" Sherlock knew what John wanted him to say. That something would work out. He would think of something. Sherlock knew there was no hope of that. Even if he survived somehow, he'd never see England or his best friend again. Sherlock could only shrug. Maybe he'd have one more surprise after all.

"Who knows?"

_It well may be that we will never meet again in this lifetime._

"John there's something I should say. I've meant to say, always, and I never have. Since it's unlikely we'll ever meet again, I might as well say it now."

_So let me say before we part, so much of me is made of what I learned from you. You'll be with me like a handprint on my heart._

His last conversation with John Watson, yet the words he wanted to say wouldn't form.

"Sherlock is actually a girl's name."

It was good to know he could still make John laugh. His best friend shook his head.

"It's not."

Sherlock couldn't help smiling himself. 'It was worth a try."

"We're not naming our daughter after you."

"I think it could work."

John grew serious again then. He gave a nod, but not about baby names. The message Sherlock had intended hadn't been spoken. He'd received it, nonetheless.

_And now whatever way our stories end, I know you have re-written mine by being my friend..._

In that moment, John was more grateful than ever for Sherlock's gifts at deduction. He wanted him to know what he meant to him. He'd taken him out of the world of the normal, and into the world of the incredible. He'd taken a crippled man and made him whole again. Oh yes, he was more of an adrenaline junkie now than ever. One more thing Sherlock was right about. It was a tradeoff he would happily accept.

_Like a ship blown from its mooring by a wind off the sea. Like a seed dropped by a skybird in a distant wood. Who can say if I've been changed for the better?__  
__But because I knew you I have been changed for good. _

There was no more delaying, and everything they could put into words had been said. Sherlock held out his hand.

"To the very best of times, John."

John looked at Sherlock's face a moment before taking it. There was one last message to be read there. A bit of uncertainty. It had taken John time after Sherlock had first returned to forgive him for letting him think he'd died. It had taken a bit longer to realize how crushed Sherlock would have been if he'd never forgiven him. He'd apologized repeatedly, even at the wedding. A proud man like Sherlock didn't apologize unless he meant it. He was apologizing once more now._  
_  
_And just to clear the air I ask forgiveness for the things I've done you blame me for._

John took his hand, holding it just a second in reassurance. He'd hurt his friend too, although he'd been too angry to realize it at the time. Right now, their friendship was all that counted.

_But then, I guess we know there's blame to share. And none of it seems to matter anymore._

Sherlock turned to get on the plane. He didn't look back. He might not have been able to move forward if he had. For now, he would love to be able to just turn his emotions off again.

_Who can say if I've been changed for the better?_

No, Mycroft was wrong. If he'd never let himself feel, he would never have had people in his life worth sacrificing for. It was painful now, but it was worth it. He was glad to have had friends in his life, and he was glad to be who John had made him into.

_I do believe I have been changed for the better. And because I knew you..._

As John stood on the ground and Sherlock looked out the window, both thought the same thing at once.

_Because I knew you, I have been changed for good._


End file.
